


Too Beautiful to Live

by TygerTyger



Series: Glorious Ponds [8]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Infertility, Miscarriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 15:39:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TygerTyger/pseuds/TygerTyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I didn’t kick you out. I gave you up."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Beautiful to Live

**Author's Note:**

> In _Asylum of the Daleks_ , Oswin describes her failed soufflé as being ‘too beautiful to live.’ It’s a phrase that I’ve heard used about still births and miscarriages, and I definitely think its inclusion in the episode was intentional. 
> 
> This was tough to write, and is likely tough to read as well.
> 
>  **Trigger warnings** for infertility, miscarriage and surgery trauma. 
> 
> **Spoilers** for Asylum of the Daleks and Pond Life.

Amy was reading in the living room when she heard the familiar sound of Rory’s key. The blinds stirred in the late spring breeze as the front door opened. She dog-eared her book and looked up, but he didn’t come into the living room as he normally would, his footsteps continued down the hallway to the bathroom.

Amy stood up and opened the living room door as Rory emerged from the bathroom clutching his first aid box. “Duty calls,” he said and pecked her on the cheek as he passed on his way back outside. She went to the door and watched as he crossed the road to the playground and approached a woman.

Sitting on the bench, red-faced and sobbing, was a little girl, maybe seven years old, with a bloodied knee. Rory knelt in front of her and put his hand on her arm. The girl dried her eyes with her sleeve and sniffed. Rory opened his first aid box and set to work patching up her knee. The girl winced a couple of times but was very brave.

When he had finished, Rory put his things away. The girl’s mother thanked him and instructed her daughter to do the same. She hugged him around the middle and Amy watched her husband’s face as his hand dropped onto the child’s head. She looked at her reflection in the hallway mirror; their expressions matched.

 

 

Rory was brushing his teeth at the mirror when Amy came into the bathroom. She slipped her arms around him and held him, resting her ear against his back to listen to his heart through his t-shirt as he finished up.

“Rory?” she said into his back.

“Yeah?”

Rory played with her wedding ring and she propped her chin on his shoulder to look at him in the mirror. He smiled at their reflections and she squeezed him tighter. “I want another baby.”

Rory paused and searched her face before turning around. “Are you sure we’re ready? It hasn’t been a year yet.”

“I know.” She rested her head on his shoulder and kissed him softly at the hollow of his collarbone. “It might make her birthday easier.”

Rory pulled her in close; she shut her eyes and sighed. “I’m ready if you’re ready,” he said after a moment or two.

She pulled back and looked at him. “I’m ready.”

 

 

“Are you ready?” the anaesthetist asked, looking down at her on the trolley. Amy’s jaw was clenched; there was a scream somewhere in her throat that she was holding down. Rory leaned over her, and if it weren’t for the blue mop cap he might have blocked out the clinical surroundings. “They’re going to wheel you down now.”

Her hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist; she could only shake her head slightly as the tears pooled by the bridge of her nose. He thumbed them away, his own eyes red with unshed tears. “I’m not leaving you. I’ll be with you all the way through, even when you’re asleep. And I’ll be here when you wake up. I’m going nowhere.” She nodded as much as she could and he kissed her.

They wheeled her down to theatre and Rory held her hand. She closed her eyes but could still see the steady scan of the ceiling lights through her eyelids as she was conveyed down the corridor.

They moved her to the operating table and Rory pulled a stool up to sit next to her head. He stroked her face. The anaesthetist said something which Rory repeated. “They’re going to put you under now.” She nodded and held his hand tight, her thumb resting on his wedding ring.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see the anaesthetist inject something into the cannula in her hand. A coolness forked and branched through her arm and the room swam, but there was still Rory. “Count down from ten,” he said, looking fuzzy edged and soft.

“Ten, nine, eight, se…” Rory’s face faded to darkness but she could still hear him breathing close to her ear, like the sound of waves breaking gently on a pebbled shore. In the darkness was a point of light and the farther she sank, the clearer it became.

A little ballerina, flame haired and beautiful. So beautiful.

She woke up a second after drifting off. “They don’t need to do the procedure. I saw her. She’s not dead. She’s got your eyes and my hair. She’s so beautiful, Rory.” Amy laughed and she looked at Rory. His face was contorted and his bottom lip quivered.

He put his cheek to hers and stroked her arm. “They checked again before… to make sure. She’s gone, Amy. It’s done.”

Amy felt a bubble of rage. “No!” She tried to push him off but her arms had no strength. He sat up. “I saw her; she wasn’t dead. They took her and you let them!” She was suddenly aware of what she was saying and where she was. Rory sat in the recovery room chair crying openly, not knowing what to say. “Oh God. Rory, I—”

“It’s okay, you didn’t mean it. It’s just the anaesthetic wearing off.” She reached for him and he buried his face in her shoulder as he hugged her.

“I’m sorry. I love you,” she said, and repeated it over and over until the sobbing stopped.

 

 

 

They sat in the gynaecologist’s office as she read over their notes. Rory was nervously twisting his ring around his finger. When the doctor closed her folder and folded her hands in front of her, Rory reached out and took Amy by the hand.

“I’m afraid the news isn’t good.”

Rory’s shoulders slumped—an understated response to his world falling apart.

“I don’t know if it has anything to do with how your daughter was delivered in…?”

Rory cleared his throat. “Botswana.”

“Yes. I wouldn’t fret over it, it’s probably just one of those things.”

“So that’s it?” Amy said; her voice sounded hard.

“You could keep trying but it’s likely to end the same way.”

“No,” Rory said and looked across at Amy. “I— I don’t want you to have to go through that again.”

“Rory, I…” She wanted to tell him that she would go through it a thousand times over if he asked her to. But he was Rory and she was Amy and he would never ask. She felt a pang of guilt at how relieved that made her.

“There’s no need to make any decisions straight away,” the gynaecologist said. “Go home and think about things; spend some time with your daughter. How old is Melody now?”

Rory let go of Amy’s hand. “She’ll be three in June.” He didn’t let his voice falter this time; he was getting better at lying. She would have been three in June, but she wasn’t ever going to be three. Not to them.

The doctor stood, which meant she had said all there was to be said. Amy and Rory got to their feet and the doctor shook Rory’s hand before passing Amy a leaflet. “There are contact details of support groups in here that can help.”

Amy looked at it briefly then shoved the page into her pocket. They thanked the doctor and left.

 

 

Amy woke up terrified.

She clawed at the bed sheets, heart racing and breathless. Rory took her in his arms and whispered to her. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” He stroked her hair and she buried herself in his embrace. He held her until she drifted off again to the sound of his breathing, waves breaking on a pebbled shoreline, and she was transported back.

The ballerina with Rory’s eyes and her hair, practising her pirouette in the safe warm darkness. She stopped spinning and stood to look at Amy before glancing over her shoulder and running away.

 _No, wait!_ Amy followed her, the tips of the girl’s hair licking through the darkness as she ran.

Amy stopped.

In the distance was a door, and standing there waiting was Rory. But before the girl reached him the darkness was pierced by blinding white light. The waves still rolled somewhere unseen as the light faded to red.

Amy was alone.

 

 

“I want to break up.” Amy thought it best to be blunt. Rory’s mouth sagged open in shock and she fought the urge to back out. “I want you to pack your things and leave. We’re done.” Knowing Rory as she did, she knew that subtlety and kindness would be a losing play.

She went to the kitchen and got a black sack before going upstairs to shove his things into it. She heard him trot up the stairs after her. “Amy!” She said nothing but continued to push random articles of clothing into the bag. He grabbed her wrist. “Amy. Don’t do this. Whatever it is, we can get through it.”

“No! I’m sick of being told what to do. I’m telling you that I don’t want you anymore and you’ll just have to accept that.”

He cocked his head. “Is this something to do with your new job? Have you met someone else?”

His words were like a dagger through her heart. She slapped him hard. “How dare you!”

He palmed his stinging cheek and stared at her for a moment before turning and walking out. She followed him down the stairs, and if he turned around now she was sure her resolve would break. But he didn’t. He kept going.

Rory snatched his phone and coat from the hall stand, but left his key behind. Amy barrelled out the door after him, feeling boneless, and watched him walk away. She couldn’t help but call his name. But Rory didn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to clare009 for her support with this.


End file.
